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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947837">Escape from Reality</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnsWitch13/pseuds/AutumnsWitch13'>AutumnsWitch13</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Thunderbirds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Not Beta Read, Pole Dancing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:54:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947837</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnsWitch13/pseuds/AutumnsWitch13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>John and pole dancing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lady Penelope Creighton Ward &amp; John Tracy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Escape from Reality</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I dragged this out of the void for you lovely people, enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pre-performance prep was a almost ritual now.<br/>
The makeup, to highlight his features, hid his identity like a mask. It was a physical, visible step away from his normal life, because John Glenn Tracy would never do anything like this.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<em>The studio was unknown territory, he'd only come because Penelope had insisted, and partly because he wanted the evidence. Nobody in their right mind would believe that Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward could pole dance. </em><br/>
<em>"It's a great way to improve your strength, even if you do end up with loads of bruises." Penelope flexed her abs, John shook his head with a fond smile.</em><br/>
<em>"I do go to the gym Penny."</em><br/>
<em>"But this is fun. Look, I'll teach you something."</em><br/>
 </p><p><br/>
He brushed the last stroke of glittering paint across his face and closed his eyes. The nerves would hit any second, the three minute panic between finishing make up and beginning the warm up. His performance would be flawless, it always was, his only fear was that someone would recognise him. Under the make up, the paint and the club's lighting identification was almost impossible.<br/>
 </p><p><br/>
<em>Twice a week pole classes were run in the studio. John made certain that nobody from any of his classes attended before he messaged the teacher, Frankie. At first it was just a new way to stay fit, a way to escape the mental strain of his degree. It became more, he enjoyed it, the physicality, the technique, the escape from himself - that for an hour he could become someone different.</em>
</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
The tiny studio at the back of the club wasn't empty, his partner Elea (not her real name but none of them used their real names) was already there.<br/>
They didn't speak, this was part of the ritual as well, silence until their hands were white with chalk and they were ready.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<em>Frankie had forwarded the email, auditions for dancers. John had ignored it, busy budgeting the next six months, hoping he'd be able to finish the year with the money he'd never wanted his father to give him.</em><br/>
<em>He'd applied the next day. Two weeks later he'd performed in public for the first time.</em>
</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Elea shook out her red-brown hair, a cloud of silver glitter rising into the air. She was painted with slices of the night sky, just as he was; it was almost poetic really.<br/>
"Break a leg." she whispered.<br/>
"Break a leg." he replied. <br/>
They split up, taking their places either side of the stage.<br/>
She gave him a thumbs up, the paint glowing in the darkness.<br/>
In the moment before the lights went down he saw Penny at a table in the corner.</p><p>The performance passed in a rush of bright lights, adrenaline, music and applause. In a heartbeat of eternity he found himself backstage with Elea. There was something strange, knowing that he'd never experience that again. He wasn't sure if he would miss it yet, he wouldn't miss the glitter that was certain.</p><p> </p><p>He said goodbye to Elea at the back door and promised to keep in contact. Penny, dark hair, dark eyes and a sequined blue dress, linked arms with him and talked about everything and nothing as they made their way back to his flat.</p>
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